


Eight of Them

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Mental Breakdown, Robots, Self-Destruction, sort of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23718655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: There are secrets Celebrimbor keeps more hidden than the rings, at least until he must destroy them when Annatar betrays him.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Eight of Them

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a 100 words of Robots/AIs with issues thread on FFA, expanded for posting here. In all fairness, both the robots and Celebrimbor have issues.

Celebrimbor has never told anyone what he works on in the depths of his workshops. This secret he keeps hidden more than even the rings.

He knows what the others would say if they knew. Celebrimbor has always had to be aware of the thin line he walks, unwilling to be viewed as too close to his family. 

He uncovers them with shaking hands, sobs falling from his lips. There are eight of them here. 

He counts them as they slowly awake. One for the great-grandfather he barely remembers, but who kept him safe from Morgoth in the sudden dark. One for the grandfather he also lost too young, and who he is the only one to remember as a kind elf who sneaked his grandson sweets. One for his father, who he renounced but who he still loves. Five for his dead uncles. None for his remaining uncle, he cannot do that to Elrond. 

He should have built more, he thinks, as they wake. A Fingon for the Maedhros, perhaps, he would have needed to balance the different needs of the different ones, the Finwë couldn't have an Indis, too much conflict, a Fingolfin would have caused the same, he would need to tweak the-

“Tyelpe? Child, what is the matter?” One robot asks. “Did you overhear Nolofinwë talking about our family again?”

“Ata,” another one breaks in, sounding tired.

“Do not distract us from my son,” a third one says, as they all crowd around. “Tyelpe, it will be alright. What's wrong?"

'They're wrong,' he thinks. 'They're echoes of the past, and it has been my wish for the past that has doomed everything.'

“I’m so sorry.”

With a final sob he ends them, shutting their circuits down one last time. 

‘I will join the real ones soon.'


End file.
